Let Me Count the Ways
by Gardeners Grow Love
Summary: One hundred different moments between and stories of Ise Nanao and Kyouraku Shunsui.
1. Of Two: One's Lonely, Two's Company

Hello everyone, I have a confession to make: I am a little more than mildly addicted to pairing Nanao with Shunsui.

After reading everyone's lovely stories, I've decided to add to the slowly growing collection. I recently came across a list of 100 themes for the couple (http://community. and decided to scrape some of the rust and mold off my writing skills. Here's the first and may there be many more!

Please take the time to kindly donate a review. You might find a review on your own story and more frequent updates to this one.

**One is Lonely, Two is Company**

Theme 1: Of two

On a rainy morning that was not quite illuminated by the first stirrings of the rising sun, a lone soul sat in a silence punctuated by curls of steam rising over a cup of green tea. Nanao loved the silence, the solitude. In it, her space and her time belonged to her alone and, selfishly, she relished in it. But it was something to only be savoured occasionally because her life was proportioned to think, plan, and care for two rather than only one and she would not have it any other way.

From her first day in the Academy, there was Matsumoto. They were complete opposites in so many ways and perhaps that was why they were such fast friends. Gorgeous, golden, carefree Rangiku had laid claim to her from the moment they had met and they had been inseparable through the long lectures, even longer nights of study, and the occasional dashes of fun that Nanao allowed.

Rangiku gave herself into Nanao's keeping and care. In return, Matsumoto had made it her mission to never allow Nanao to get buried too deeply in work or wind herself up too tightly in her own expectations.

Nanao prepared their meals, as Rangiku was a hopeless cook, under the agreement that there was something solid and healthy in Rangiku's stomach before the blond began her evening's revelry. It was also part of their agreement, Matsumoto demanded, that Nanao would eat at least twice a day regardless of how much homework, studying and practice needed to be done. And tea did not count as eating.

On the nights that Matsumoto was too drunk to make it back to their quarters, the quiet shinigami student would traipse through the dark streets and loud bars to bring her friend home. The morning after those nights, Rangiku would wake to find the afternoon sun peaking through the shades, a glass of water by her head, and a note on the table telling her to meet her friend in the library for catch-up. Despite much chastising, Nanao never pushed her friend to change her ways and Rangiku did the same, whenever she changed the cool cloth on Nanao's forehead to soothe the migraines that plagued her after too much time spent in reading or changed the old bandages wrapping fingers burnt from over-practice of high-level kido.

Whether Rangiku had gossip to tell, excited news to confide, or heartbreak to share, Nanao always had the time and patience to listen. And although she didn't understand a good portion of it, Matsumoto never failed to pay attention to Nanao's informal lectures on her newest discoveries.

Things changed when they graduated and worked their way up the ranks in their respective division. The two kept a close friendship but spaces where Rangiku used to be and was not anymore opened in Nanao's life. Though she spent the extra time honing her skills and filled the surplus space in her new dwellings with books, her days seemed quieter for the lack of another person constantly wandering in with their stories, needs, imperfections and presence. Life was busy but lonely.

Then, she was transferred to Eighth Division as its new fukutaichou.

Kyouraku-taichou crowded into her life with his wide shoulders and ever-ready endearments. They shared an office and, try as hard she might, her paperwork constantly mingled with his half-filled sake bottles, loose-leaf poetry, and the languid body of a very tall and oft-drunk man lounging on the floor. The sobering scents of her tea and ink mixed strangely but not uncomfortably with the sharper flavours of his alcohol and musk. Her demands for him to finish his paperwork were punctuated by his flowery phrases of 'sweet, lovely, adorable Nanao-chan'. Every so often, he would intrude into her face with a light touch on her arm or puckered lips in her face, which earned him just as often a well-placed object to his head or midsection.

While they danced in opposition in the office (when he advanced with romance, she retaliated with her tome; when she advanced with paperwork, he retaliated with puppy eyes), they danced in harmony on the battlefield. The curved blades of Katen Kyoukotsu flashed in the deadly light of demon arts as they guarded each other's weaknesses. She kept the troops safe and allowed him to focus on the most pressing dangers without having to worry about their less experienced charges. He made sure that she never had to look death in the eye in the striking of the fatal blow. Together, they tended to the injuries and traumas of their fellow shinigami before they wrapped each other's wounds and pestered the other home to rest.

Shunsui invited himself into his Nanao-chan's personal life as well, despite her objections and well-thrown objects. She would sometimes come home to find that he had helped himself to her groceries to prepare more food than she could eat in a week clustered on her tiny kitchen table. And he would kneel there, with an infuriatingly calm smile, waiting for the inevitable invitation to help her finish the food. She could count the number of steps she took out her door before she would find him strolling leisurely across her path on their way to work. He insisted that she accompany him on his regular visits into Rukongai as volunteer magistrate, during which he insisted every time in buying her a sweet (she never did figure out how he knew that she liked her candy as much as he liked his sake).

Since the first day that Nanao had stepped into Eighth Division, Shunsui had made sure that her life brimmed and burst with his. She had fought him every day for the past few centuries but Shunsui was a stubborn man. He had his way and she, despite her constant appeals to the contrary, came to accept that she had welcomed his life into hers a very long time ago.

"Love, you should come back inside," a warm voice whispered next to Nanao's ear as a familiar pink haori was smoothed over her shoulders. She turned her head to give Shunsui a sceptically raised brow, even as she leaned into the proffered kiss.

"Alright." Strong arms came around for support, hands covering her own over a round belly. Together, they went inside.


	2. All the Lonely People: A Missing Piece

This story turned out very different than I had imagined it - maybe a little too differently.

Thank you everyone for their wonderful reviews. ) I do try to answer each one, especially reviews that have specific comments and questions. Please let me know if my stories don't make sense; a good chunk of the time they probably don't.

Also, feel free to hatch plot bunnies based on future themes. I've something up my sleeve for themes #3 (skin) and #4 (step away) but would love suggestions for theme #5, which is 'necessity'.

**A Missing Piece**

Theme 2: All the lonely people

The fields of rice fell away as Nanao flew through the countryside. Everything was silver and still under the bright harvest moon, laughing in silent mockery at the turbulent currents foaming in her chest. She needed to get away, to clear her mind in the cool wind, but his voice chased after her and there was no escape.

"_I love you, Nanao."_

How had things become so complicated?

_They stood together, stark black figures in a sea of blue shot through with the knotted grace of branches reaching for the sun. Sprays of sakura petals rose to the sigh of the wind, coming to rest on a grey stone pockmarked with age. _

_Every year, on this anniversary of his passing from one world to the other, they both came separately. Sometimes, they exchanged words and comforts and left together. More often, they would stand in silent reflection of so many memories and part in different directions._

Why couldn't they have stayed that way?

_He put his arm around her to draw them together and Nanao gladly accepted the support, laying her heavy head on his shoulder. The burden of grief, she had learned after too many years, was best shared. He smelled of sandalwood and sake - his way of honouring his dearest and oldest friend._

When had they grown so close?

"_It's been so long." She was surprised to hear her own voice._

"_Yes, and even longer still, when I measure the days by how often you smile. You rarely do, Nanao."_

How many days had he counted her smiles? How many days had she counted on his smile, to keep her from drowning?

"_Rangiku-chan assures me that it is the best way to avoid wrinkles." He chuckled; he never did understand how she could keep such a straight face. _

"_Life moves forward, whatever face I make. I carry on with my duties and I am content with its rewards. It is a great privilege that I can serve as taichou." She hid a small sigh, thinking of the cares of running a division, but he noticed anyway._

"_Yes. But Nanao; are you happy?"_

What was happiness but a dream and a memory?

"_I am content enough. I have all that I need and I should not ask for anything more." She kept her eyes on the grave before her._

"_That does not answer my question, though." He turned her to face him and she could not refuse accepting his gentle smile. Always so kind; no wonder he was beloved of his entire division._

Who could not love him, he who deeply and compassionately loved all those around him?

"_It is important to me that you find joy. He not only asked me to look after your safety, he entrusted me with your happiness. I do not make promises lightly and this one, I fully intend to keep, if you would be willing to help me with it."_

_So genuine, his concern and care. As much as it eased the emptiness that had plagued her constantly after _his_ death, it was almost too much; she never was comfortable with being so open. "You have more than kept the promise. If not for your support, I… these centuries would have been much more difficult. Thank you, for being – for everything. I am sorry if I have imposed too much on you. It must have been difficult for you too. If I can help in any way…"_

_Nanao stepped back to bow but the other captain reached for her hands, holding them lightly as he rubbed his thumbs over the delicate bones of her knuckles. She looked at him questioningly. _

"_Nanao, you have not troubled me at all. What I give, I give freely and I do not expect anything in return. I'm glad that I can be of help. I only ask that you accept what I have to offer."_

"_To see you take delight in life, I offer you everything that I have." _

How she desired to accept.

"_My shoulders for your burdens." _

How she wanted to lean on him.

"_My arms for your pains." _

How she wished to step into his embrace.

"_My ears for your worries."_

How she ached to pour out her troubles to him.

"_My heart for your sorrows."_

How she needed to spill her grief.

"_I love you, Nanao."_

But a large piece of her had been given centuries ago and she had never asked for it back nor had he returned it. Her taichou (for he would always be taichou and he would always be hers) had taken it with him when he went and still kept it, wherever he walked under the vastness of the sky. And now, in vain was it to try putting the remaining pieces of her back together.

_The sakura petals swirled violently in the wake of flash step and Jyuushiro stood with his hands outstretched, the warmth of her already cooling from his palms._


	3. Skin: Musings of the Heart

So much for my ambitious schedule of writing one story a week! That was the original plan with 'Let Me Count the Ways' but, as you know, life is always getting in the way. The new plan is to write whenever I'm inspired or just feel like tinkering about without words.

This story turned out vastly different than my first inklings of what it would be. My current literary romance is with poetry so the following is my attempt at getting inside Shunsui's head. ) Because I have a lot of trouble deciphering the dense but invisible webs of meaning that come attached to every poem, I've included cliff notes after the piece that may be of help in unwrapping my gift.

Theme 4 is 'step away'. Ideas, anyone?

**  
Musings of the Heart **

Theme 3: Skin

For a lover as well studied as I,  
Who has long laboured in study of that art,  
I declare that love is a tender text  
Written by the musings of the heart.

I have read thoroughly the many forms  
And hold each in my highest esteem,  
For love is always a beautiful thing  
In this afterlife which is, but a dream.

Though I love all love with equal fervour,  
Should you implore me to confess,  
I shall tell you that there is one poem  
That upon my heart is impressed.

How cold is your skin  
Of fresh-fallen snow so white.  
But you let me in

Deep, to my delight.  
And I discovered your fire  
That burns oh so bright.

It knows not to tire  
And calls me home without fail.  
That warmth, I admire

But its colour pales  
To the ocean of your eyes.  
Your look does not fail

To always surprise  
As it holds me full measure  
Whatever my guise.

**  
Form of the Poem**

I'm not master of poetry (I'd hand the mike over to my city's poet laureate if he would do a cameo, but he's not available). However, I think that the form of a poem can convey meaning and create effect as much as the words inside the poem.

The first three verses are written in iambic pentameter. Sounds familiar? Yup, ol' Bill Shakespeare was really good at it, hear tell. An iamb is a metrical foot used in poetry. It usually refers to a two-syllable foot in which the stress is placed on the second syllable. Pentameter is a line that consists of five iambs stringed together. The effect that I think iambic pentameter creates is that it has a gently rolling rhythm that lends itself to love poetry. ) In my mind, it's also attached to the hip with English and Italian verse; associations that seem fairly appropriate for Shunsui's deep, romantic voice.

The final five verses are written in haiku. The traditional Japanese poem, in its simplest incarnation, consists of three lines. The first and third have five syllables and the second contains seven. I don't know much about the form besides the syllable counting so I don't do it justice (I'm pretty sure I'm bastardising it). However, I did take some liberties with it and introduced an interesting rhyming scheme. The complex flow is a bit hard to follow, I admit, but it creates a very cool effect of resonance between the verses. I chose the haiku to frame Shunsui's impressions of Nanao because both the poetic form and the woman are complex and deep in a simple and elegant way.

Last notes on form is that there are eight verses, which – in true geekhood – allude to Shunsui's and Nanao's kinship with the Eighth Division. The only effect this creates is to serve as a background reminder of Shunsui's and Nanao's relationship as Taichou and Fukutaichou… and how it's really just a momentary thing that we skip over as we eagerly dive deeper into the relationship. )

**  
Meaning of the Poem**

Here's the real heart of the matter. What does this poem mean? It should be fairly obvious who is writing about whom but what is the poem trying to say? I'll leave that up to you to puzzle out and share with me via reviews. ;)


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